Jon Snow was laying in the snow, bare chested. It was cold, yet he felt none of it as he gazed up at the stars. It had been exactly 24 hours since he had been reincarnated here in the body of the famous bastard of winterfell or was it Aegon Targaryen? Anyways, he had met a god that night and been given a new chance at life. The powers of the frost giant Loki flowed through his veins now. He could swim in a frozen lake for hours without so much as dropping a degree in body temperature, he had strength, speed and durability above any mortal human. Sure, he was nowhere as strong as Thor but he was strong enough to throw grown men like they were dolls, not that he had tried that yet. What gave him the biggest advantage however was his magic and his memories. Loki had been a master of illusions and conjuration and had the potential to control ice due to his heritage. He now knew how to read expressions like a champion, seeing even the tiniest shift in muscles. All in all, he was better at pretty much everything.
It had been a pain in the ass, receiving that many memories. It hadn't left him entirely the same. Neither Jon nor him was really interested in leadership before this but, with Loki's mindset mixing with his own, he couldn't help but desire power. He could live for thousands of years, he had lived for thousands of years, he should be allowed to rule, shouldn't he?
The stars above him were beautiful. Constellations totally foreign to him before having crossed over. There were the seven constellations of the seven faced god, the father, the mother, the crone, the maiden, the warrior, the smith and the stranger, then there were the lesser known constellations, those he didn't know the names for but could clearly make out, "That one kind of looks like a horse", he muttered, tracing the outline with his finger. In this world, without the light pollution of the modern world, he could see all of them so clearly, it was enchanting. He would miss the luxury of modern life. He hadn't been an engineer or something akin to it. He didn't know how to kickstart the industrial revolution. He knew some things but the larger parts of the puzzle were missing. In Asgard, the work that humans used machines for was done with magic. Loki had been a magician but he never lowered himself to learn these things, they were beneath him. How Jon wished Loki hadn't been so arrogant.
With a sigh, he pulled his shirt back on and walked through the castle corridors, not even bothering to light a torch. With his enhanced senses, the moon light streaming in was enough for him to navigate the halls.
Back in his chambers, he fell asleep, drifting into sweet nothingness.
"Snow, it is time for you to break your fast", a servant's voice woke him up, "Your father wishes to see you"
"I'm coming, give me some time to put on some clothes", he shot up from his bed, gathering his shirt, pants and coat. He may not feel the cold any longer but that wasn't something the others should know. It was summer and yet, the snow kept on falling. It was on any given day between -5 and 3 degrees celsius, though that kind of measurement wasn't used in westeros. No one had even considered making a tool to tell exactly how cold or warm it was. It simply wasn't needed. Yet he knew instinctively exactly how cold it was.
His clothes were grey with white accents, as those were the colors of the Starks, yet, as a bastard, he didn't wear the direwolf coat of arms, he was no trueborn Stark.
Walking through the halls, he found himself in the dining hall, where his family was waiting for him. Catelyn wasn't happy to be waiting on the bastard, he could tell from her expression, the way her brow was furrowed, the way her lips curled down. Sansa was much the same. Little Arya however was grinning at him. She was only seven but already a free spirit, clinging to Jon more and more with every passing year, which was another reason Catelyn didn't like him. Theon and Robb didn't seem to notice he was even there and Bran, he was only six, still clinging to his mother. Rickon was still a babe, resting on Catelyn's chest, sleeping.
"Come sit with us Jon", Eddard smiled warmly, pointing at the very end of the table, far away from Catelyn. They ate bread and cheese, some meat too and chatted, until Eddard cleared his throat, "Now, Robb, Jon, you have been training with our master at arms for 4 years now and, seeing as you are both about to turn ten and two in a few weeks, I see it fitting that you two start training with proper steel"
"Ned, you can't possibly mean-"
"Yes, Cat, it is time. We can't shelter them forever… Now, boys, each warrior favors a different weapon, most go for a sword of some kind, a greatsword, a bastard sword, a short sword but there are other options too, in Dorne, they fight with whips and daggers, whilst the Westerlanders prefer their spears. Now ser Rodrik can teach you most of these, other than the more exotic ones, like the whip. As you are closing in on manhood, you too must specialize, only that way will you reach your full potential. You will still learn to fight with other weapons but your main focus will be on your chosen weapon. After we have broken our fast, ser Rodrik will take you to the armory. You can get a feel for the weapons there and choose one", Eddard Stark's voice was firm and stern but there was warmth behind those eyes. Catelyn looked like she had bitten into something sour. He wanted to chuckle at the woman but kept it in. No need to provoke the woman.
After the meal, they were led into the armory. Robb immediately started swinging swords, testing their weight in his arms but Jon didn't gravitate to those. Loki had wielded daggers and spears. A dagger was a woman's weapon, it wouldn't be honorable to fight with one of those, so, he grabbed a spear, swinging it in wide arcs. It felt light as a feather in his hands, though most things felt light as a feather, even swords, now that he had Loki's strength.
Ser Rodrik's face lit up, surprised, "A spear? I would have thought you would gravitate towards a sword. You are quite gifted with the sword"
"Something about it just feels right", Jon shrugged, jabbing at an imaginary foe, his posture was perfected, his strikes fluid. The master at arms nodded, amazed with the practiced ease he swung the spear with despite them only having used the long weapon once in a while.
When the two had picked their weapons, he set them up in the courtyard against straw dummies. First he showed Robb the proper stance for wielding a greatsword, guiding his strikes. When he was satisfied with Robb's movements, he turned to Jon, only to see him already battling the dummy with fluid motions, deadly accuracy and surprising speed.
Later that day, the master of arms was called into the Lord's solar. Eddard was sitting behind his desk, "So, how are my boys faring?"
"Robb is making decent progress, his form needs some work and he won't be winning any tourneys for the near future but he has potential. He chose the greatsword. Ice is a greatsword too, isn't it?"
"It is. Good, good, what about Jon, a longsword I presume?"
Rodrik shook his head, earning a raised eyebrow from Lord Stark, "My lord, I expected that too but- well, he surprised me, he surprised all of us. Almost immediately he took up a spear and well- I… it is like he was born to wield a spear. His form was off but not in a bad way. He used an entirely different style of combat than that of the Westerlands. If I were to guess, I would maybe place it as one of those Essosi spear arts, those that the Martell's practice"
"And how does Jon know Essosi spearmanship?", Eddard stared at him, that cold, serious stare that made even seasoned warriors like ser Rodrik uneasy.
"I- I don't know, my lord"